Welcome to the Sunshine State
by AllThreeSherlockHolmes
Summary: Where did Sherlock go after he faked his death? He went to Florida of course. Follow Sherlock as he travels through the sunshine state and who he travels with. Possible Sherlock/OC
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock stepped out the tunnel that connected the plane and airport. After a several hour long flight he'd finally arrived at his destination, Panama City, Florida. The best hiding place he could find until Moriarty's web was completely dismantled.

No one would ever think to to look for the world's only consulting detective in a rather small city only know for its white sand beaches.

After going to baggage claim to get the suitcase that held only a few things from his flat back in London. Things that John would never think to look for if they were missing.

Across from the baggage claim was what appeared to be a place to rent a car. He knew all to well how Americans drove. He of course found it boring and very dull. He could just buy a car later if he ever wanted to.

He took out his new cell phone. Well technically it was Molly's old cell phone, that she had given him, so that they could stay in touch. He searched through the contacts she had put in there. One of the numbers was for a local taxi service.

Oh how he wished he could just hail a cab, like back in London, but nope. Florida was way different. If you needed a taxi, you had to call a number to get one. How dull.

"You need any help sir?" a person asked from behind him.

Sherlock spun around and was greeted by the face of a much older man. It was clear that the man worked here, but wasn't working today. Instead he appeared to be waiting for someone.

"You're not working here today. It's your day off, so I shouldn't bother you by asking for help," Sherlock stated.

"What makes you think I work here?" the older man asked.

Damn, Sherlock thought. He had to get himself under control. He couldn't go around telling people who they were if he was to fully disappear.

"Just a lucky guess," Sherlock said, quickly.

"Good guess," the older man replied, "but I'm more than willing to help a tourist, who clearly doesn't know what he's doing."

"I know what I am doing," Sherlock defended.

"No you don't," the man stated. "You're standing in the middle of the airport, scrolling through your phone, looking for a number that isn't there."

"How do you know that?" Sherlock asked.

"You're not the first to do that. Now what is it you need?" the man asked.

"A taxi," Sherlock replied.

"No taxi is going to make the trip out here in the dark," the man stated. "But you can still rent a car."

"No, thank you," Sherlock said. "I find the American way of driving quite dull. You do everything backwards when it comes to the open road."

"You know, my daughter's flight should be landing in a few minutes. Why don't you just wait with me, then we'll take you where you need to go," the man suggested.

Sherlock just nodded. There was no way he would rent and drive an American car, but he would ride in one if offered.

"What's your name, young man," the man asked.

"John Rogers," Sherlock replied.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Rogers," the man said holding ut his hand. "I'm Jerry Allen."

Sherlock wasn't one for shaking hands, but he shook Jerry's anyways. The man was being kind enough to give him a ride where ever he needed to go.

"What's your daughter like," Sherlock asked, pulling his hand away.

"She's wiser, then she's given credit for," Jerry replied. "She's loves to travel, but can hardly afford, so when she gets a chance to do so, she jumps at it, and will make the most out the trip."

"Where is she flying in from," Sherlock asked, trying to make small talk.

"Mexico," Jerry replied.

At that moment, a young woman was walking down the stairs, looking straight at Jerry. Sherlock couldn't help but stare at the woman. She had beautiful, shiny long brown hair, that graced itself over her left shoulder. Her eyes were a brilliant blue-green with a hint of orange around the pupils. It was if they were tiny comets, going several million light-years an hour. She was in her late twenties to early thirties.

It was safe to say that this American woman was not at all dull or boring. She was very interesting, and he was interested in getting to know everything about her.

Sherlock was so busy at staring the woman and trying to figure out what he feeling, he barely even heard her name.

"Mr. Rogers, this is my daughter, Jessica Bryan," John said.

Jessica held out her hand toward Sherlock and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rogers."

Sherlock picked up on a hint of an English accent in Jessica's voice. What he really picked up on though, was her last name. It was different from Jerry's, which indicated that she was married. The thin tan line on her ring finger helped back up the theory; she was not happily married.

Sherlock hold of her hand and said, "Same here Mrs. Bryan. Please call me John."

"Jessica," Jessica stated.

The two of them just stared into each others eyes, wondering what each of them were thinking.

Jerry cleared his throat and said, "Shall we get your bags and be on our way."

Jessica pulled her hand away and said, "You're right. I need to get home. I don't want to keep Trevor waiting any longer."

"Trevor," Sherlock asked.

"My husband," Jessica replied, solemnly.

Sherlock looked at Jessica's left hand and noticed a faint tan line now had a ring over it. He then looked at the uncovered areas of her body and noticed various bruising and scars that haven't even begun to fade away. It was clear that she was in an abusive relationship. She only traveled, to get away from it, hoping to find new love and new life. She was trying to escape.

He felt the words trying leave his mouth, but quickly swallowed them back down. He had only just met this woman. He couldn't step in and save her after only five minutes knowing her. He had to make a plan to save her and to help her.

After Jessica got her luggage, the trio walked out of the airport and into the rather cool night.

"Feels like winter out here," Jerry stated.

"More like the beginning of spring," Sherlock said.

_Floridians and their idea of what cold is, how boring,_ Sherlock thought.

The rest of the walk was silent. Sherlock continued to look at Jessica. He noticed how she would constantly rub her left shoulder. It was obvious that it had been injured more than twice.

Once they were all in Jerry's car, Sherlock noticed that Jessica had decided on sitting in the back with Sherlock. It was clear that she used to sitting up front, because she couldn't seem to get comfortable. Why she decided to sit in the back, he didn't know.

* * *

After driving down a poorly lit road for twenty minutes, Jessica handed Sherlock a piece of paper.

On the paper was her number, her address and a string of words.

The words read: "I know who you really are. Please save me."

Sherlock looked at Jessica, with a blank expression. He didn't care that she figured him out. He already knew that she was smart enough to have figured him out.

He nodded, confirming that he will do whatever he can to help her.

He didn't care that, they had only just met, he was willing to do everything and anything for her.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock sat on his hotel bed, looking at the note, Jessica had given him. He then put the piece of paper down and took out his cell phone, he went to the internet browser and typed in 'Trevor Bryan, Panama City, Florida'

For the next hour he read whatever he could find on the man. He wasn't even going to try to meet this man. He didn't want to get anywhere near this man.

By the time he was done reading, sleep was calling his name.

* * *

The next morning, Sherlock left the hotel in a taxi, and headed for 2101 22nd Street, home of Jessica Bryan and her abusive husband.

When he arrived, he paid the cab driver and walked toward the front door. As he walked up the porch he heard a faint crying coming from inside the house.

He knocked on the front door and waited. A moment later Jessica opened the door and let him in.

"Come in," Jessica said moving out of Sherlock's way.

Sherlock walked in, looking at her. It was clear that she had been the one crying. He took note of the fresh and bruises and several new scratches of broken skin.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked, making sure she wasn't hurt in any serious way.

"I'll be fine," Jessica replied walking over to the couch.

Sherlock picked up the limp she was walking with.

"What did he do to you?" Sherlock asked, walking over to her.

"I came home late," Jessica said. "I was supposed to be back by ten. I didn't get home until ten-thirty."

"So he beat you," Sherlock stated.

"He wasn't always like this," Jessica said. "He use to be sweet, kind and caring. That's why I married him."

"What changed?" Sherlock asked.

"Two years into our marriage, we found out that we couldn't have children. He's been taking it out on me," Jessica explained.

"Why haven't you left him?" Sherlock asked.

"I can't. We agreed to fifteen years of marriage before getting a divorce. We still have ten more years," Jessica replied.

Just then a man walked in through the front door. Sherlock looked at the man and recognized him from the pictures on the internet. The man was Trevor Bryan.

"Who is he?" Trevor demanded, looking angrily at Jessica.

"He's a friend of Dad's. He was just coming by for a visit," Jessica lied.

Trevor looked at Sherlock and asked, "What's you name?"

"My name is of no importance to you," Sherlock replied, calmly.

Trevor marched over to the two of them and roughly grabbed Jessica by arm.

"Let her go," Sherlock ordered.

"You are not my boss," Trevor replied, as he pulled a gun out of the back of his pants and aimed it Sherlock.

"I may not be your boss, but I am not someone you want to mess with," Sherlock stated, with threatening tone.

"Tell me who you are then," Trevor demanded, putting his finger on the trigger.

"I'm the man, that will haunt you the rest of your life, if you don't let her go," Sherlock said, his tone now deadly.

Instead of saying anything, Trevor let go of Jessica, pushed her onto the couch and pulled the trigger of his gun.

Sherlock stumbled backwards as the bullet entered his arm. He quickly regained his balanced and stared daggers at the wife beater.

"You have terrible aim," Sherlock stated.

With that said, he went after Trevor. He punched the man in the face, pushed him up against the wall and smashed his head into the wall three times.

Once Trevor was once the floor, unconscious, Sherlock went over to Jessica to make sure she was alright.

"Are you okay?" Sherlock asked, as he looked at his arm.

"He shot you and you still went after him," Jessica stated.

"Are you okay?" Sherlock repeated.

"I'm fine," Jessica said.

"Good, I need you to pack a bag. We're leaving," Sherlock stated.

Jessica nodded and said, "I still haven't unpacked my bag yet. Let me just go get it, along with the first-aid kit."

Jessica stood up a walked out of the living room and down the hallway.

Sherlock took of his coat and look his bloody arm. The bullet was lodged in his upper arm. He was debating on whether or not to take the bullet out himself.

Just then Jessica walked back in, suitcase in hand, purse and a first-aid kit in the other.

"Where are we going?" Jessica asked.

"Your father's first," Sherlock replied. "Can you drive?"

"Yes, but not very well," Jessica answered.

"Great, let's go. He'll be waking up soon," Sherlock said.

* * *

Sherlock and Jessica sat in her father's kitchen. Sherlock's sat next to Jessica, while she worked on removing the bullet and patching him up.

At that moment Jerry walked in and said, "I talk to a few of my old contacts and they've agreed to help you along the way, whether it's a place to stay or if you need money, just call them and they'll give it to you."

Jerry placed a phone on the table.

"Thanks Dad," Jessica said.

"Want to tell me what really happened?" Jerry asked.

"John stopped by saying that he forgot something in your car. While we were talking, Trevor showed up, started yelling grabbed me and pulled his gun out on John. After he shot him in the arm, John attacked him and got me out there as quickly as he could," Jessica explained, keeping Sherlock's cover.

"What did you forget that was so important you had to go to my daughter's place?" Jerry asked looking at Sherlock.

"Nothing. I just needed an excuse to see your daughter again," Sherlock said.

Jerry smiled and said, "Well I'm glad you showed up when you did."

"We should get going. Trevor might be looking for us by now. This will be the first place he'll look," Jessica said as she finished bandaging Sherlock's arm.

"No, you're spending the night in the upstairs bedroom," Jerry replied, leaving no room for argument.

"Your father is right. Trevor's not going to be in any kind shape to start looking for us until he gets the concussion I gave him under control," Sherlock stated as he put a clean shirt on.

* * *

Sherlock and Jessica sat on the bed upstairs, talking and planning out what they were going to do.

"I take it your mother was from England," Sherlock said after a while.

"You picked up on my accent," Jessica stated.

"What's she like?" Sherlock asked.

"I never met her. She just handed me off to my father and left," Jessica replied.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Sherlock said.

"Don't be. We're better off without her," Jessica said. "So after we get to Tampa, where will we go?"

* * *

The next day, after they woke up, got dressed and went down stairs.

They were greeted by Jerry.

"The car is ready. Trevor will never think that you're in it," Jerry stated.

"Thanks Dad," Jessica said. "I'll call when we get to Pensacola."

"Not before breakfast," Jerry insisted.

"We'll take it to go," Jessica replied.

The trio walked into the kitchen. The smell of crisp bacon, scrambled eggs and french toast filled the air around them.

"I had a feeling you might say that, so I already took the liberty of put it in a plastic container," Jerry said handing them each individual containers.

Jessica took the food and gave her father a hug.

"Love you, Dad," Jessica said.

"Love you to, sweetheart," Jerry said returning the hug.

Sherlock just stood there, watching the two of them say good-bye to each other. His wished he could have had a chance to say good-bye to everyone he cared about, before faking his death.

The father and daughter pulled apart after a long moment.

"Be safe," Jerry said. "That's an order. When I see you again, it better be in one piece."

"We will, Dad," Jessica replied, before walking out of the kitchen.

Sherlock was right behind her when Jerry stopped him.

"I really appreciate what you're willing to do for my little girl," Jerry said. "I want you to promise me, that you'll keep her safe at all cost."

"I swear to you, that no harm will come to your daughter. I would die, before I let anything happen to Jessica," Sherlock swore.

"Trevor promised me the same thing, when he asked to marry her," Jerry stated. "Look at how well that worked out."

"I assure you that I'm nothing like that man. I don't take my anger out on women. If anything, I protect them," Sherlock said, as went to catch up with Jessica.


	3. Chapter 3

Their first stop on the road to safety was to Sherlock's hotel room, to get his things.

Jessica sat on the bed, watching Sherlock take his things out of the drawers he put his stuff in and neatly into his suitcase.

"Why'd you do it?" Jessica asked.

"Do what?" Sherlock asked in return.

"Fake your own death," Jessica clarified.

"It was the only way to stop Moriarty's people from killing my friends," Sherlock replied.

"Do you miss your friends?" Jessica asked.

"The same way you already miss your father, even though you two have only been apart for less than hour," Sherlock stated. "That tells me you two are very close You're all each other have."

"You're correct," Jessica said. "I do miss him."

Sherlock put the last of his things in the suitcase and said, "Let's go."

* * *

The drive to Pensacola was two hours long and silent. The only talking was when Jessica called her father, to let him know.

Halfway through the city, they stopped at a small diner, for lunch.

"You want to drive for a while," Jessica asked, while they waited for their food.

"Everything here is backwards," Sherlock replied.

"We say the same thing about England," Jessica stated. "But will you drive?"

"I don't even have an American license yet," Sherlock pointed out.

"If we get pulled over, just give them my father's name and they'll let you continue driving," Jessica said.

"That actually works?" Sherlock asked.

"You could give a random beat cop in China his name, and he'll fall to his knees and worship the ground you walk on," Jessica explained. "He's one of the most feared of men on this planet."

"What does your father do," Sherlock asked.

"He's a former weapons manufacturer who made all sorts of things for the military and it's allies. He got out of the game a few years ago, due to old age, and started working at the airport" Jessica said. "Any country that isn't our ally, thinks he's still making weapons."

"How come I never heard of him?" Sherlock asked.

"Do you watch tv or read the newspaper?" Jessica asked.

"Not often enough apparently," Sherlock replied. "But if he's the most feared man, how come Trevor wasn't afraid of him?"

"Trevor was, he just didn't care. Dad would send at least several of his old friends to straighten him every few months, but as soon as they left, he would go right back to hurting me, blaming me," Jessica answered sadly.

"Well you don't have to worry about him anymore," Sherlock stated.

"He will come after me. He has a lot of lap-dogs who do whatever he says," Jessica said.

"What was he like when you met him?" Sherlock asked.

"We were high school sweethearts," Jessica replied with a faint smile. "He treated me in a way no else would. He made me feel like I was beautiful."

"Well you are," Sherlock said, not realizing it.

"Come again?" Jessica asked.

"Beautiful," Sherlock replied.

Jessica blushed slightly and said, "Thank you. The only one who says it anymore is Dad, but he's only saying it because it's his job."

"How did you meet Trevor?" Sherlock asked, the name sour in his mouth.

"Soccer, same team," Jessica replied as the waitress came over with their lunch.

"Here you two go," the waitress said with a thick country accent, as she placed the food in front of them.

"Thank you, Sarah" Jessica said, making eye contact with the waitress.

"It's no problem, Jessica," Sarah said with a smile. "I'm glad that you have someone with you this time."

Sherlock watched the conversation between the two women. It was obvious they knew each other. Probably when Jessica tried running before.

Sarah left to tend to the other costumers.

"How far did you usually get, when you ran?" Sherlock asked.

"I would have been caught within the time we've been talking," Jessica replied, picking at a couple of fries on her plate.

"I see you've made a friend along the way," Sherlock noted.

"Sarah's tried many times to help me. A lot of people in this diner have," Jessica stated. "Last time I was here, Micheal came marching over to me, grabbed me by the hair. A couple of men who were on the other side of the diner, came to the rescue. Sadly, Trevor won and I ended up in a hospital for a week."

"What did he do?" Sherlock asked.

"Broken ribs and punctured lung," Jessica said, painfully.

Sherlock didn't know what was wrong with him. He wasn't himself. He was being nice to a woman he hadn't even known for forty-eight hours. He wasn't just being nice, he was saving her, from an abusive relationship. He wouldn't normally do this. Normally, he'd just tell what he knows to the person being he hurt. He wouldn't involve himself like this. What was going on with him?

"You okay?" Jessica asked, reaching her hand across the table and taking hold of Sherlock's

Sherlock didn't flinch away from the sudden contact, like he normally would and said, "I'm not sure. I'm not myself. I can't think right. It's almost as if your presence is effecting who I am."

"It's love," Jessica said simply. "Tell me you didn't feel that connection we had at the airport?"

"No, I felt something. I just didn't know what it was," Sherlock replied.

"Well it's love," Jessica said.

"I'm a sociopath," Sherlock stated.

"Even a sociopath can fall in love," Jessica replied. "After all you are only human."

"Most people say I'm not," Sherlock said.

"I prefer looking past what other people say and forming my own opinions," Jessica pointed out.

"You know how to think, unlike everyone else," Sherlock noted.

"I'm usually the smartest one in the room," Jessica replied with a shrug.

Sherlock didn't say anything in return, he just stared into Jessica's eyes as a million things ran through his mind. After moment of comfortable silence and staring into each other eyes, Jessica quickly broke the connection and turned away.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked.

"The man who just walked into the diner he's Trevor's number one lap-dog," Jessica whispered.

Sherlock turned and looked at the man, then back at Jessica and said, "We need to get out of here."

"How?" Jessica asked.

Sherlock looked at the man again and studied him. The man was not more the five-ten, but he was well-built and looked as if he was waiting for someone to pick a fight with him. It was clear that he wasn't going to leave here empty-handed. He was planning on taking Jessica away not matter what.

Now he needed a plan and he need one quick, since the man was already walking toward them.

"You," the man said, pointing his finger at Jessica. "You're coming with me."

Sherlock stood up and blocked the man and said, "You'll have to go through me."

"Have it your way," the man said as he began to throw a swing toward Sherlock's face.

Sherlock stopped the man's fist by grabbing his arm and twisting it. He quickly and swiftly knee'd the man in the stomach.

The man bent over gasping for air.

Sherlock did release his grip. He proceeded to knee the man again, but this time in the head. Releasing his grip, the man fell to the floor in a fetal position.

Sherlock turned and looked at Jessica and said, "We must go now."

Jessica and quickly stood up. Sherlock wrapped his arm around her shoulders protectively as he lead her out of the diner and toward the car.

"Get in the passenger seat. I'll drive," Sherlock said, as he took the keys out of Jessica's coat pocket.


End file.
